Syndrome
by Korrosive
Summary: A young detective. A mysterious town. The scent of awaiting death. Arthur Kirkland knows that they have been waiting in that town where a chain of unsolved murders happen. Contains OCs, no pairings
1. Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome

He was running.

Choked breaths left his lips as he nearly stumbled over a stone.

The musty air and weak, flickering orange light followed and clung onto him as he rushed into a blur of dark colour.

He could feel that the person was following him.

Briskly walking.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Weapon in hand.

He let out a yell as he tripped and his limbs scraped across the ground.

The orange light was flickering with every footstep.

The person took one step forward.

"D-don't… GET AWAY FROM ME!"

And yet another step.

"NO…!"

The person kneeled down.

"N-…!"

He was silenced as a hand was clasped over his mouth.

His eyes widened as he desperately tried to get up and run. But he was paralysed with fear and his mind was blank. He had no energy to move. It was as if death had already claimed him. He felt a strong latch on his arm.

Wait…

Was that…

A red moon he saw?

_A moon died with blood._

A piercing scream left his throat as the edge drove deep and menacingly and pierced his throbbing chest.

Then the light went off.

* * *

He let out a sigh.

Leaning back in his office work chair, Arthur Kirkland was fanning himself with a folded copy of the latest issue of a men's fashion magazine. Scattered all over his desk were documents and random pieces of paper he couldn't be bothered with. Oh, and not to mention his usual cup of coffee which had gone cold.

Speaking of cold, weather of late had been spiking. The summer heat seemed to have risen way above the average of the past few years and everyone was drinking cold soda instead of coffee, despite the lack of… elegance? Not to mention that magazines and newspapers were not for reading anymore, but were makeshift fans.

Arthur pretended to be engrossed in going through his paperwork as he fanned himself madly. The fans in the cramped office were not of any help. But the company was too broke to have air-conditioners installed. Or either that it'll be a waste of money. After all, using it for only three out of 12 months in the year would be quite a waste…

Arthur's mind was still drifting in the subject of air-conditioners when a stack of papers were pushed in front of him. Arthur looked up.

"Can I help you, Toris?"

"Sorry to bother you, Mr Kirkland," Arthur's colleague apologised rather meekly. Toris' chin-length brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he was wearing a sweatervest over a short-sleeved dress shirt instead of his usual suit. The heat must have been getting to him. "But the boss asked you to take on the Syndevale murder chain case."

Arthur would have tried to kill himself with paper cuts out of desperation if he had not been careful.

The Syndevale Chain Murder Case.

The case had been dragging on for almost four years now.

Syndevale was a small town of currently less than 30 residents. People used to stay at the quiet place for vacation but none of them left the town alive. Even those who did died shortly after leaving. One by one every innocent soul who set foot in the supposedly quiet and peaceful town soon died. And just two weeks ago, his colleague who was sent to investigate the case was murdered after being posted for 12 days.

Everyone who went there was murdered.

Their bodies were not found. No suspicious murder weapon came in sight. The residents were deemed innocent.

The town looked the same.

Every worker in Arthur's line of business dreaded being posted there. But somehow, Arthur had been expecting this. At 23, he was one of the youngest and most talented detectives in line with the police.

He was doubtful.

_Someone _had to be the murderer.

Everyone was a suspect.

Arthur tapped his chin with his favourite ballpoint pen thoughtfully. Seeing his supposed doubt, Toris hastily added, "And I was assigned to be your partner, Mr Kirkland."

Arthur closed his forest-green eyes for a while, deep in thought. After a few moments, he tousled his dark blonde hair, let out a deep sigh and sat up straight. He placed down his pen in a uniform manner.

"So when am I leaving?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not posting in a long time! Life. ^^ So here's a new story which I thought through carefully before posting. What's this nostalgic feeling...? Maybe it's Geist Mein Schreien all over again. XD Concerning this, I am quite set on finishing this, reviews or not. Constructive reviews are strongly encouraged though.**


	2. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Arthur looked out of the window, eyes dazed and expression uninterested.

His body rose upwards abruptly as the taxi went over a large bump, and bumped back into the seat as the taxi continued its somewhat smooth journey along the dirt path lined with countless pebbles. Arthur tried to focus his gaze on the dull-looking pebbles, but the speed of the taxi rendered his front view all blurry and Arthur felt nauseous, forcing him to look at the back of the taxi driver's head again.

The driver had given him a weird expression, with eyebrow raised and eyes wide in disbelief, when Arthur told him where he was going.

"Syndevale? You crazy?" The driver had exclaimed after he had yanked a stub of cigarette out of his mouth, getting smoke all over Arthur's face.

"Yes," Arthur had replied between coughs as he swatted the smoke in a clearly annoyed way.

"No one goes there anymore. They say it's haunted!" The driver had sputtered, showing no intention of moving.

"So I heard," Arthur had replied. "My friend died there last year. It's his first death anniversary soon."

"Oh," The driver's voice had dropped to an apologetic tone. "Well, sorry about that lad. Was your friend that… Edelstein guy?"

"Yes," Arthur had replied. "And I need to go now. Someone's expecting me."

Arthur began to think of the arrangements that were set. Toris would stay in London and provide information for Arthur while Arthur did the investigating in Syndevale. He was arranged to stay in a simple Bed and Breakfast run by a girl named Victoria Louis.

"Her name's Victoria Louis, age 20 and is born in Seychelles. She was said to have moved in Syndevale about four years ago, around the time the chain murders started. She's definitely a suspect," Toris had told Arthur.

Arthur had seen a photo of her. Long black hair tied in two pigtails with red ribbons, tanned skin, a bright smile and a pair of equally bright eyes. Arthur had shaken his head at the picture. _How looks can be so deceiving!_

Arthur let out a sigh, most probably out of impatience. He looked out of the window and noticed the bland, monotonous countryside surroundings had changed a little. He wound down the window and craned his neck. Up ahead, he could see a small town coming into sight.

Syndevale.

There was a sign in front of the town. In large, black block letters were: 'WELCOME TO SYNDEVALE!' In more discreet lettering beneath the welcome message were the words: 'Population: 50'

It was clear the sign was outdated.

The taxi pulled in front of the sign.

"Why did you stop here?" Arthur questioned. "I told you to drop me off in front of Victoria's Bed and Breakfast."

"I refuse to go in there," the driver drawled back, his breath emitting a horrendous scent of nicotine and tobacco. "If you were smart, kid, I advise you ask me to turn back."

Annoyance immediately flickered in Arthur. But he knew he shouldn't waste his time with a mere taxi driver. He pulled out his wallet and took out two notes and stuffed them in the driver's palm.

"Keep the change," Arthur muttered coldly as he got out of the taxi and closed the door. The driver turned the taxi around and sped off, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and dust and disappearing in less than a minute.

Arthur watched the taxi shrink in the distance before he turned around and began walking. His suitcase wasn't heavy, and fortunately for him the temperature wasn't at its highest, but it was still hot.

Letting out a sigh, Arthur walked into the town. There was hardly a sign of life on the streets. A wooden sign swung slightly from a closed, deserted café. Even the convenience store looked lifeless. Arthur gave his surroundings a furtive glance before fishing out a neatly-folded map from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully. Now, where was-…

Arthur let out a gasp as a breeze suddenly blew. Arthur had not been expecting wind and had been holding onto the map gently. The map was easily blown from his grip and it flew over to a corner, fluttering in front of a black cat Arthur had just noticed dwelling by itself in the corner. The cat yowled in surprise as the map flew in front of it. Instead of running away as Arthur had expected it to do, it let out an angry hiss and launched itself at the map as if it was its enemy.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted at the cat, hoping to scare it off. But the cat seemed determined as it bit and shredded the map to unrecognisable pieces, much to Arthur's shock. Once the cat was done, it shot Arthur a piercing emerald glare before it turned and loped off.

Arthur couldn't believe it. His only form of guidance in the town was gone. Just like that. He tried not to dwell on it for too long.

_The town's small anyway. I'll find the place soon_, Arthur thought.

He turned and took a random turn at a corner and continued walking. He wound himself around several empty streets. Aside from an occasional rubbish bin and houses, there didn't seem to be any proof that a person actually existed. He noticed that several houses were empty. The plants in the gardens were brown and wilting, and the Arthur noticed some sparrows and insects flying in and out of the houses. He even spotted a nest on the windowsill of a cottage.

Arthur looked around. He stole a glance at his watch. He had been walking for at least 15 minutes but there was no sign of the Bed and Breakfast. The creases in his forehead deepened. His back was damp with perspiration and there were dark patches on his shirt where he sweated through. What he really wanted now was a cold drink. The thought of an iced drink made him water. Shaking his head, he quickly dismissed the thought. He had to concentrate on finding the B and B.

Arthur walked a few steps forward, trying hard not to let the heat get to him. Taking in deep breaths, he tried to go easy. He walked through a row of uninhabited, lonely houses and without much thinking took a left turn.

What came into sight was a school.

_A school… _So even a place like this had schools. But obviously there was no student studying there. The school bell swung in a painfully slow speed.

Arthur glanced at his watch again. About a minute had passed. Why did he even bother? Perhaps he was unconsciously trying to relieve himself of his boredom. With this beating heat, wet shirt and the extra baggage, it was no surprise for him.

Just then, a new element was added to the scene in front of him.

A person.

The person was a young man who looked younger than him. He was dressed in an unbuttoned polo shirt and Bermudas, revealing his lanky arms and especially long legs. He had short, messy black hair and contrasting pale skin. His gentle dark eyes were somewhat transfixed on Arthur, and a shoulder bag was strapped to his body.

_Finally a person in sight_. Arthur could not help but smile a little. He took a few steps towards the young man, whom upon closer look possessed a face of youth.

"Yes? Can I help you?" The young man asked. His voice immediately caught Arthur's attention. It was not only the distinct slight huskiness in the man's voice, but also the foreign accent. It was a clear accent, but definitely not an English or American accent.

"Good afternoon, I would like to find out where Victoria's Bed and Breakfast is," Arthur replied politely.

"Oh, I know Victoria quite well. I take you there," the man replied. His slight grammatical error was enough to make Arthur twitch with annoyance. But Arthur was not in a mood to correct the other's language, so he flashed a polite smile instead.

"Thank you."

Arthur followed the man. They were walking side by side. Arthur and the man were caught in awkward silence for a few moments before the man asked, "What are you here for?"

"Oh, I was going to actually stop by in the next town, but the motels within my budget were all full, so I decided to book a room at the B and B here for a few days, that's all," Arthur replied.

"Really? There hasn't been many tourists here since about three years back… when all the murders start…" The man answered with a nervous laugh.

"Are you a resident here?" Arthur asked.

"Not really lah," the man said, shrugging. "I mean, like, I don't have citizenship lah…"

Arthur flinched at the odd particle. "So where are you from?"

"Singapore," the man replied with a hint of pride. "How about you? You from here?"

"London," Arthur said. He hit his forehead with his palm. "Ah, how rude of me! I'm Leon Parker. Nice to meet you!"

"I'm Aloysius," the man replied, grinning. "Nice to meet you too."

Arthur flashed a smile. Aloysius, a Singaporean with no British citizenship. That was the person who stood in front of him. He was a Syndevale resident, which immediately made him a suspect. He didn't seem to be suspicious or anything out of the ordinary, at least not yet…

"Well, we're here," Aloysius' voice broke Arthur's train of thought. He chuckled. "You could've walked a little longer."

Arthur instinctively looked at his watch. It took about a minute to get here. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts to see if they had passed by any familiar landmarks. Arthur decided not to think too much about it. Instead, he focused on what was in front of him.

It was quite a small building with only three storeys. A sign hung on the building that read 'Bed and Breakfast'. There were two flower pots at the sides of the door. A cheerful welcome sign swung behind the glass door. It looked quite decent.

"Thanks for bringing me here," Arthur said.

"No problem," Aloysius smiled. "See you then!"

"See you," Arthur waved goodbye before turning back to the building. He opened the door and wind chimes jingled above his head. He could not help but let out a sigh of satisfaction as cold air rushed past him.

"Oh, welcome!" A girl appeared from behind the counter. Her pigtails bounced as she jumped up, her blue dress flapping a little. She flashed a cheerful smile.

This was definitely Victoria Louis.

"Hello, good afternoon," Arthur smiled.

"Leon Parker, right?" Victoria glanced at the thick guestbook on the desk which was decorated with a vase of a single daffodil. "Nice to meet you! I'm Victoria, the owner of this place."

Arthur smiled. "Nice to meet you too."

"Hang on for a minute. Take a seat over there." Victoria gestured to a armchair before she disappeared behind a doorway and appeared a short while later with a glass of iced tea. Arthur had to keep himself from drooling as he took the drink gratefully.

"Thank you." Arthur gulped down the tea, feeling his dry throat being quenched by the cold drink.

"Hot weather, isn't it?" Victoria smiled. Arthur could only nod as he drank the tea.

"Well, I don't have many people staying here nowadays," Victoria said as she sat across from Arthur. "I mean, since about four years ago."

_The Syndevale Chain Murder Case_. Arthur knew. The chain murders had affected the town in many different ways. Although the most significant was the drastic drop in population over a short period of time, another outstanding change was drop in tourists and revenue for the residents.

"I heard," Arthur finally said as he put down his glass. Victoria stood up and smoothed her dress.

"Shall I show you to your room?" she asked.

Arthur nodded, thinking about a cosy bed. "Sure."

Victoria brought Arthur upstairs. The wooden stairs were creaking a bit and the pinewood floor on the second level was lined with a slightly dusty carpet, proof that Victoria had not been expecting anybody and thus had not been vacuuming much. There were around five rooms in the second floor, excluding the common bathroom, which Victoria showed Arthur. After that, Arthur was shown to his room. With a grateful nod, Arthur thanked Victoria. Victoria gave him a huge smile before leaving him to unpack.

But Arthur didn't unpack. Once the door was closed, he dumped his baggage in a corner and flung himself on the bed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Amnesia

His eyes flickered.

Arthur sat up slowly, groaning as he lifted himself from the bed. He felt tempted to fall back into slumber, but he forcefully stretched out his legs and arms, and he felt his energy being restored back in his limbs.

He yawned as he slipped out of bed, feeling somewhat refreshed. As he dusted himself, he glanced at the wall clock.

It was six in the evening.

Arthur looked out of the window which overlooked the eerily empty street. The sun was still high in the sky and the day was still bright but it wasn't shining as much as it was in the afternoon. Arthur shook his head, sighing as he rubbed his forehead wearily. He couldn't believe he had slept the entire afternoon away.

Suddenly, he felt his stomach growl softly. Then it occurred to him that he did not have lunch and his last meal was hours ago. Dinner sounded appealing. But he wondered how he was going to _get _dinner. After all, most of the shops seemed closed and maybe he won't be able to find a place to eat. Shaking off that thought, he decided to just take his time to take a look around. He opened his suitcase and took out a clean shirt, a pair of jeans and a towel. He stepped out of his room and went into the bathroom.

Once he was undressed, he stepped under the showerhead and turned on the water. As droplets pelted on his bare body, he began to think. Victoria Louis and Aloysius were the only people he had met, and he was sure he would meet more people soon. After all, it was a small town. Soon enough he would know everyone in this town and start checking up on them, gathering information until he found the murderer, the mastermind. But something else was pulling at his thoughts.

How long will he survive?

The last detective stationed here, his colleague who went under the alias Kent White, lasted 12 days. His body was found on an empty street, eyes white and skin pale. There was a large, dark, open hole in his chest, where his heart was. The state of his corpse screamed an instantaneous death. He had lain in a pool of his own blood and near his head were two characters carved in sand, 'A' and '1'. When Arthur had seen the photos, he knew that it was a clue, a possible lead. Aside from these two characters, there was no other evidence. No weapon was found, although the object which had stabbed Kent White was identified as a knife. The people interrogated had alibis to prove their innocence.

After taking a shower, Arthur dried himself and pulled on his clothes and brought his soiled clothes back to his room. He would have to find a dry cleaner somewhere. After grabbing his bag and double-checking that he had brought his wallet, Arthur went downstairs and he saw Victoria reading a book behind the desk. Upon sensing his presence, Victoria looked up.

"Going out?" she asked as she put down the book, which Arthur identified as an ancient copy of The Catcher in the Rye.

Arthur nodded. "Do you know where there's a place to eat? And is there a dry cleaner as well?"

Victoria nodded. "The dry cleaner is just down the road. There's only one in the whole town. And as for a place to eat…" Victoria looked thoughtful as she tapped her chin with her index finger. "I usually buy things from the next town and fix my own meals. I think the closest thing to a restaurant here would be the pub. There's a convenience store too with ready-made sandwiches and things like that." Victoria looked at Arthur. "If you want to, I can make you dinner…"

"No need to!" Arthur gave a friendly smile as he declined the kind offer. "I think I'll just check the convenience store. Where is it?"

Victoria leaned forward and gestured outside. "Go straight, turn right over there and then go straight again. After that turn left at the chapel. That's where the convenience store would be."

Arthur mentally recited the directions in his head. "Alright, got it. Thank you!"

Arthur left the Bed and Breakfast and headed down to the convenience store. The walk to the convenience store didn't take more than 10 minutes.

The convenience store was lit up and fortunately amply air-conditioned. Arthur had been dreading a dingy open-air store, and he was glad the convenience store was the opposite of his thoughts. Shelves were lined with biscuits, snacks and ready-made food. A fridge was stored with cold drinks. A cold air rushed past Arthur as he stepped in. He went over to a shelf and contemplated on what to buy. He spotted a ready-made chicken and cabbage sandwich and reached out for it. As he did, his arm bumped into another person's.

"Oh sorry," Arthur murmured an apology in instinct.

"Ve! Sorry!" the man next to him apologised at the same time.

Arthur looked at the man.

The man looked around the same age as him, with hanging light brown hair. The man straightened his faded blue dress shirt nervously and he looked apologetic as he tilted his head to one side.

"No, it's alright," Arthur gave a small smile.

"Ve… I'm glad," the other man replied as a broad grin stretched across his face, replacing his earlier glum reaction. "I've never seen you around before. Did you move here?"

"No, I'm just staying," Arthur answered. He drew out his arm. "I'm Leon Parker, nice to meet you."

"Feliciano Vargas," the man replied in his light, cheery voice as he shook Arthur's hand over-enthusiastically. "_Piacere di conoscerti_!"

The man's name, accent and greeting rang in Arthur's head. There was unique curl to his voice. His language and voice told Arthur that he was Italian.

"You're Italian, aren't you?" Arthur faked his suspicion with a smile as he took down the sandwich. "Have you lived here long?"

"Ve… so you noticed?" Feliciano said. "Yes, I came here with my grandpa and brother when I was 13!"

13… "And how old are you now?" Arthur enquired.

"20!" Feliciano beamed. "My birthday was just last month, you know! I love celebrating my birthday because my brother Lovi will help me make pasta! By the way when's _your _birthday?"

Seven years ago… Long before the chain murders happened. Arthur jammed his free hand in his pocket. "April…"

"Oh no! I can't believe so much time has already passed already!" Feliciano suddenly exclaimed. "I've stayed here for too long! Lovi's going to scold me!" Feliciano wailed. "Sorry but I have to go already! See you around! _Ciao_!"

Arthur waved as Feliciano rushed to the counter, nearly tripping up in the process. As Arthur watched the young man nearly fall on the customer in front of him, a question had popped up in Arthur's head.

What about Feliciano's grandfather?

* * *

Once Arthur returned to the B and B, he immediately went to his bedroom, locked the door and took out his laptop. As he waited patiently for his Hewlett-Packard laptop to boot up, he ripped away the plastic from his sandwich and began eating. Once he was logged in to his account, he opened up his Skype application and called Toris. It wasn't long before Toris picked up.

"Mr Kirkland?"

Arthur didn't beat around the bush. "Give me information on Aloysius, Victoria Louis and Feliciano Vargas."

"O-oh… Right away!" Toris answered hastily. Arthur heard paper flipping and pens being scattered across the table. Arthur chewed his sandwich impatiently.

"Do you want me to tell you verbally or send you the information?" Toris asked.

"Just tell me," Arthur answered. "Starting with Aloysius."

"Alright," Toris cleared his throat. "Official name is Aloysius Lee Wen Dong. He is a Singaporean citizen who moved here three years ago. He is 19 years old and has one sibling, an elder, Malaysian-born brother who lives with him. Aloysius used to study in the local school on Syndevale before it shut down with the disappearance of one of its students. Aloysius is also a trained first-aider, but he doesn't belong to the British Red Cross or the St John's Ambulance Brigade, although he is said to have certificates and badges."

Trained first aider. That meant that the bag Arthur saw Aloysius carrying could be a first-aid kit. But Aloysius didn't belong to any recognised first-aid organisation but still had badges and certificates. And about his sibling… Arthur would leave that until later.

"How about Victoria?" Arthur asked.

"Victoria Louis, aged 20, is of Seychellois heritage. Both of her parents were born in Seychelles. She moved here about four years ago, about half a year before the chain murders happened. She actually moved here to further her education. Her mother died seven years ago, and her father is in prison for theft and kidnapping. She receives financial support from her cousin, Nicholas Dubois, who is 25 years old and is working in Paris. She started her own Bed and Breakfast once she moved to Syndevale and she was earning quite a steady income until the chain murders happened."

Arthur nodded slowly. He knew that he would have to consider Victoria a suspect, although it was quite illogical. If she was the murderer, it would affect her business, and no sensible person would commit murder knowing it would affect business. But she had financial support from her cousin, and that meant that it was still a possibility that she was the murderer.

"Is Nicholas Dubois still financially assisting Victoria?" Arthur asked.

"Um… I'm not so sure. I'll try to call him tomorrow and report to you when I get the results, Mr Kirkland," Toris said. "And…" Arthur could hear the Toris' rapid typing. "Feliciano Vargas. Italian citizen, aged 20 and moved into Syndevale seven years ago with his elder twin brother Lovino Vargas and grandfather Claudius Vargas. Claudius Vargas died of heart failure five years ago. Feliciano and Lovino's father walked out on their family and their mother died in a fatal car accident. Claudius then volunteered to look after them and he raised them. Currently, Feliciano and Lovino are living together but neither of them could last the interrogation session for the last murder due to Feliciano being too traumatised."

Arthur finished the last of his sandwich and balled up the plastic wrapping before tossing it into the bin with outstanding accuracy. So the Vargas twins escaped interrogation due to trauma. Arthur leaned his chin on his palm.

"How about the previous cases for the chain murders? Did they sit for the interrogation sessions?" Arthur asked.

"They were unable to sit for a about a few sessions because…" Toris paused as he began searching up the information in the database. "For one of the earlier murders, both were not interrogated because Lovino had an asthma attack. And for another murder, Feliciano fell down the stairs on his way out of the house and hit his head, leading to a temporary memory loss."

"I see," Arthur murmured. He leaned back. He could feel as if there was something more than just finding out who the murderer was. He closed his eyes and thought hard. There was an awkward silence with occasional crackling from Toris' side. Then Arthur remembered something.

"Give me information on Aloysius' sibling," Arthur said.

Arthur heard Toris hitting the keyboard furiously as he entered the name in the database. Finally, a reply came in a solemn voice.

"Aloysius' sibling," Arthur could hear Toris' steady breathing. "is Sazali Johan bin Muhammed. "


	4. Vertigo

Grass crunched under his shoes as he picked his way around the grass.

Hands in the pockets of his jacket, Arthur looked around. He squinted his eyes as the bright noon sunlight shone. He shaded the light away with his hand.

"Sazali Johan bin Muhammed while working as a cashier at a supermarket. . He is a Singaporean Permanent Resident, but is born in Malaysia and lived there for three years before moving to Singapore. His divorced father is married to Aloysius' mother. Their father is said to have left their family when Sazali was 10 years old. Their mother was admitted to a mental hospital around two months after that and Sazali and Aloysius went to live with a neighbour for nine years. Sazali and Aloysius both moved to Syndevale to look for job opportunities. Aloysius, then 16, attended a high school in another town while Sazali went to a local university in the same town. Sazali graduated from the university with a bachelor's degree and currently works as a clerk in the next town."

Arthur learnt that Sazali went to the woods often. Arthur took a large step over the tall grass. The woods close to Syndevale were rather large and mountains towered in the background against the crystal-clear blue sky. Arthur had to admit, despite the tall grass and the possibility of the presence of poisonous snakes, the woods were nice and peaceful. Arthur closed his eyes and breathed in the cooling rainwater-scented air. He pictured a small cottage against a mountain range and a lush forest. He was reminded of his childhood of living in the countryside.

Arthur walked a bit further until a trail lined with trees on both sides lay in front of him. He stopped. Should he go on? The trail was rather rocky and he didn't know the woods so well? What if he got lost? He was convinced he wouldn't get a signal from deep in there. Still caught up in his thoughts, a sudden sound of crunching grass and movement surprised him. Arthur widened his emerald eyes.

A young man was walking up the trail towards him. The man had a slightly tanned complexion. His black hair grazed the back of his neck, and locks of black hair framed his face which bore youthful, boyish features. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, khaki trousers and black boots. A messenger bag was strapped on his body.

Isn't this Sazali?

The man waved and smiled at Arthur as he approached him. "Tourist?" he asked.

"I suppose so," Arthur let out a wry chuckle. "I was just looking around."

"Oh?" The man chuckled back. "There are wild birds and herbs in there. There is a meadow too. The flowers are beautiful at this season."

"I expect so," Arthur replied. He extended his arm. "Nice to meet you, I'm Leon Parker."

"My name's Sazali," the man replied, shaking Arthur's hand. "But you can call me Johan."

This was definitely the man Arthur had been looking for.

"You go to the woods often?" Arthur asked.

"Most days," Johan shrugged. A gentle smile that could make any girl blush stretched across his face. "It's nice in the woods. It's very peaceful inside. When you know it well, it's as if… You're part of nature."

Arthur grinned. "I know the feeling."

Johan faced the trail and closed his eyes. The gentle summer breeze blew, tousling his black hair. Arthur did the same, and he felt a sudden calm feeling rush over him. His emotions settled and he felt entirely at ease. He sucked in a deep breath. Now he knew why Johan loved the woods so much.

After a few serene moments, Arthur heard the sound of grass crunching. He slowly opened his eyes. Johan had turned around and was facing the other direction. Arthur followed his dark gaze. In the distance, he could see a figure approaching them.

"Oi, chi fan liao!" Aloysius waved as he jogged forward, a plastic bag swinging along with his rushed movement.

"Isn't it a bit too early for lunch?" Johan raised his eyebrow.

"No lah, snack only," Aloysius replied. He turned and noticed Arthur. "Oh, it's you! Long time no see ah!"

"You two have met?" Johan asked looking at the both of them.

"Somewhat," Arthur chuckled back. "By the way, what language were you speaking just now? Mandarin?"

Aloysius nodded. "My mother tongue. I used to speak a lot of Chinese at home you know!"

Johan smiled slightly. "So what have you bought?"

"Potato chips and sandwiches!" Aloysius replied cheerfully. "And ice lemon tea also!"

"Well, won't hurt to have a light before-lunch snack," Johan took the plastic bag from Aloysius. He turned to Arthur. "Why don't you join us? There's plenty for three people."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you."

The three men found a clearing and the sat down on the grass. As Arthur lowered himself down, he couldn't believe how soft the grass felt against his exposed skin. He saw that Johan and Aloysius had already seated themselves down. Johan was seating cross-legged while Aloysius had one leg to his chest and the other lying flat on the ground. Johan opened the plastic bag and handed a sandwich to Arthur.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled. "Do you two always come here and eat?"

"On days when I'm out in the woods," Johan replied as he pulled off the plastic wrapping of his sandwich.

"But then I have to come here and deliver lunch! Walk long long leh!" Aloysius complained as he ripped open a packet of potato chips and popped one in his mouth.

"What do you do most afternoons, Aloysius?" Arthur asked.

"Go uni or PD," Aloysius shrugged when he swallowed his food.

"PD?"

"Public duty," Aloysius explained. "You go to some event as a first-aider."

"Representing which organization?" Arthur asked carefully.

Aloysius twitched. "Aiyah, you confirm never hear about it one lah!"

"It's mostly forgotten," Johan agreed. "I don't think you've heard of it before. It's far-off, I heard."

_Far-off?_ What did that mean?

Before Arthur could open his mouth to ask, Johan asked. "So Leon, what brings you to Syndevale, despite all the creepy things you've heard?" He half-joked.

"It seemed like a quiet place to relax," Arthur replied. "I just wanted to get away from the city for awhile, and the fares here were quite cheap."

"I see," Johan murmured. "The murders that took place here scared off a lot of people. Syndevale suddenly became quiet."

Aloysius became quiet too and he simply nodded. "Any outsider who came here died."

"Were you two here when the murders began?" Arthur asked, although he knew the answer himself.

"A murder already took place, but we thought it was solved," Johan said. "But before we knew it, someone else was murdered."

"Who?" Arthur pressed on.

"A guest Victoria had. It was some guy named… Hercules, I think. The police said he was hacked through the chest."

_Hercules Karpusi. _Arthur knew that the man had been hacked through the chest by what was deduced as a kind of axe. The police had scoured the town for the murder weapon but none of the axes found had Hercules' blood on them.

Aloysius shuddered. "Remember that guy Roderich? His limbs were…" Aloysius gulped and clearly did not trust himself to complete his sentence.

Arthur knew what happened to Roderich Edelstein as well. His limbs looked as if someone had tried to forcefully rip them off his body; his legs and arms were dangling off their sockets in bloody veins. Traces of anaesthetic were found during the autopsy, leading to the conclusion that Roderich was alive when his body parts were being detached from him. Arthur couldn't believe that there was a person that sadistic.

Johan sighed. "Let's just hope another murder won't happen again."

This time, Arthur truly hoped so.


	5. Hangover

Everyone had their own idea of a living hell on Earth.

To Arthur, an ideal underworld lead for him would be a bar in a place this dreary.

It was 10.30pm, way past sunset and pitch dark. Arthur was using a torchlight keyring to navigate his way around the dirt path. He passed by several flickering lampposts that didn't provide much light.

It wasn't long before Arthur stopped in front of a place with a crooked sign which had blinking, broken neon-light-letters printed on it. A slightly cold air was being emitted from inside, and the familiar scent of alcohol and nicotine told Arthur he had come to the right place.

Arthur had done some research after contacting Toris the previous night. This was supposedly the one and only bar left in Syndevale. It became isolated once the chain murders began, and it was sold to a German national named Gilbert Beilschimdt.

Arthur turned off his torchlight. Without hesitation, he entered the small bar with hands in the pockets of his trousers. The orange light that hung on the ceiling was steady. Arthur caught sight of an almost bare shelf behind the counter. Only a few bottles of tequila, whisky, beer and syrups that were arranged in a disorderly manner remained on the shelf. Lazy jazz music floated in the air, and Arthur caught sight of a young man seated on one of the chairs in front of the counter. He was the only one in the bar. He had a lit cigarette wedged between his thin fingers, and a bottle of beer stood on the counter in front of him.

Arthur approached the man. "Hey," he called out. "Nice evening, isn't it?"

The man raised his head. He had ghostly pale skin and a pair of crimson eyes. The other groaned as he ran his fingers through his winter-white hair.

"Who are you?" the other demanded rudely and crankily.

"Tourist. I wanted to have a drink," Arthur replied calmly. "You can call me Leon."

"Gilbert," the other drawled back in a thick, German accent. He slowly stood up and squashed his cigarette on the cigarette pot. He went behind the counter. "What do you want? I don't have much to offer."

"Just give me a dry beer," Arthur replied. He knew he was weak when it came to alcohol, but he knew this would be the only one to get to talk to Gilbert.

Gilbert grabbed a bottle from the shelf and pulled off the cap. The bottle opened with a 'pop!' and the cap fell to the floor. Gilbert pushed the bottle to Arthur.

"Help yourself."

"Thank you."

Arthur took a big gulp, and turned to Gilbert.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"I'm German," Gilbert replied. "Came here a year ago."

"By yourself? You look pretty young to be travelling by yourself," Arthur joked.

"Drunk already? I'm 25!" Gilbert retorted. He drank several large gulps of his own beer.

Arthur nodded slowly as he pretended to take another sip. He knew that it would be hopeless to talk to Gilbert if he was drunk.

"How 'bout you?" Gilbert asked.

"I'm a Londoner," Arthur replied with exaggerated enthusiasm and a smile on his face.

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow and let out a dry chuckle. "From London? Huh… That reminds me we don't get tourists here nowadays… What brings a person like you here?"

"Oh, just looking around…" Arthur said.

"Looking… around… huh?" Gilbert murmured, pronouncing each word slowly as if it took several hundred heartbeats to conjure the words from his throat. With his still somewhat-sober mind, Arthur thought he could see a flicker of wistfulness in Gilbert's blood-coloured eyes, as if thinking about something, recollecting memories from the depths of his mind.

"You've asked me some questions about myself already," Arthur broke the awkward silence. "But how about you? What brings you here to the United Kingdom all the way from Germany?"

Gilbert senselessly rotated his beer mug on the counter, his eyes faraway. "Looking for job opportunities…" He answered, although he didn't sound convincing.

Experience of seeing criminals being interrogated told Arthur that Gilbert was lying through his teeth. "Job opportunities in a place like this? Were you expecting it?" Arthur said in a half-joking voice.

Gilbert snorted, but there was a grin on his face. "Maybe, maybe not," he mused. He let out a soft sigh.

Arthur mentally knitted his brows. Gilbert was showing every physical sign of a liar. Not only that, he sounded uncertain and was holding back, as if hiding something. He _was _probably hiding something, from what Arthur could tell.

"You're not going to finish yours?" Gilbert jerked his head towards Arthur's more-than-three-quarters-full bottle of beer. Gilbert had long finished his beer and had stood up to refill his mug.

"Umm…" Arthur hesitated. He faked a smile. "You know, I'm good." He fished out his black leather wallet and slammed two a five-pound note on the counter.

"Keep the change."

Gilbert looked up. He looked surprised for a moment, but his expression was replaced with an arrogant, confident, almighty smirk.

"Awesome. Thanks."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter is a little short and I haven't been updating much! For now, MOST of the characters are introduced. Thanks to my reviewers for their support! :D**


	6. Sinusitis

The screech of thunder rang in Arthur's ears as he dashed through the pouring rain which was coming down like a million arrows hitting his skin. He tried to ignore the rainwater that was splashing in his socks as he continued running. Another flash of lightning ripped apart the black sky with blinding light.

Arthur quickly slipped into the shelter of a nearby bus stop, glad that he was away from the terrible storm. He slipped off his soaking jacket and groaned. He just got this jacket dry-cleaned yesterday!

Arthur tried to take his mind off the storm as he sat down, wishing that he had not chosen this day to head off to the next town from Syndevale. It just so happened that the weather report he got from the Internet lied to him and he left his umbrella behind at the Bed and Breakfast. Now, he got his clothes all wet and he would have to wash them all over again.

Arthur slipped his hand in his jeans pocket and fish out a pen and a notepad, both wet with rainwater. He flipped through his notepad and managed to find a page dry enough to write something on it. He rested the notepad on his lap and began writing in shaky, unstable letters that looked like a child's writing.

_Suspects: Victoria, Aloysius, sazali, Feliciano, lovino, gilbert_

Arthur starred at his almost incomprehensible handwriting. Now he had six suspects, all from different backgrounds. All of them seemed, from his research so far, to be in fairly good terms with the victims. All of them seemed normal. There was no obvious reason for them to commit murder. Oh, and all of them were the only ones Arthur could talk to.

Arthur found out that most of the other residents were either not in a state to speak, or admitted to the hospital in the next town. The remaining residents in Syndevale had been driven to a mental state of unsoundness. All they had babbled was how nice the weather was and how the horses had fared on the racetrack that season. None of the words that came out of them made any sense to Arthur. So that was why he decided to travel to the next town himself to ask the other residents. But a spell of bad weather just _had _to ruin that.

Another screech of lightning broke his train of thought. He stared at the continuously falling rain, pelting down like silver slits of ice. He sighed. It appeared that the rain wasn't going to stop soon.

Arthur was so fixated on the rain that he failed to sense an oncoming presence. It was only when he began to hear the sound of shoes squelching through the puddles that dragged his attention to this newcomer who blundered into the bus stop clumsily, raindrops failing from his attire consisting of a jacket and a pair of trousers. His dark hair fell over his forehead. Arthur widened his eyes in disbelief.

"Feliciano?"

"What?!" came the cranky and un-Feliciano like reply. 'Feliciano' lifted his head, revealing a pair of topaz-coloured eyes and a scowl.

"O-oh, sorry, I thought you were…"

"Feli?" The other snorted. "We may have the same name and born on the same day, but clearly you can't tell the difference." The newcomer tilted his neck to face Arthur. "My name's Lovino. Feliciano must have talked about me."

_Lovino… _Arthur knew. Feliciano _had _mentioned Lovino before. Arthur nodded. "Sorry, my sincere apologies. This is our first meeting, after all."

"Whatever," Lovino shrugged. He sat on the bench and wore off his jacket, showing a well-worn shirt he wore underneath. The shirt was short-sleeved and revealed his arms, which were covered in faded red marks.

"What happened?" Arthur asked in concern as he saw the ugly markings. Lovino glanced at the scars.

"Oh these? They're nothing. I just fell," Lovino said. "Aloysius said that I should be more careful."

Arthur studied the markings. They were long, thin and red. Some were faded, others a glaring, fresh red. Those weren't wounds acquired from a fall. Arthur knew better. Those scars appeared to be inflicted from a whip.

"Aloysius?" Arthur said as he stared at the scars. His green eyes met Lovino's gold ones. "He treated you?"

Lovino gave Arthur a look, and nodded slowly. "He's the only doctor in here, of course he treated me!"

Sensing Lovino's arousing suspicion, Arthur did not press further. He looked out to the relentless rain and gave a dry chuckle. "Looks like the rain isn't going to stop." He commented drily. "So why are you here?"

Lovino snapped his head towards Arthur. "I… I was going to head to the next town to get groceries." He muttered. "How about you?"

"Same," Arthur lied. "But it seems that I won't do my shopping today. I'll head back once the rain stops."

"Yeah, whatever," Lovino shrugged. He placed his hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out a mobile phone. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw him typing down something.

"Who are you texting to?" Arthur asked.

"Feli," Lovino replied without looking up.

"You care a lot about him, don't you?"

Lovino paused, his fingers suspended on the keypad. "Yeah… I guess…"

* * *

"_You know you should stop him."_

_Lovino looked at Aloysius who was bandaging his arm._

"_He's my fratello."_

"_Yah lah, I know. But…" Aloysius' movements got more slow and hesitant. "Are you sure? There's… nothing left already…"_

"_Nothing?" Lovino let out a dry scoff. "There's still us."_

"_But what if…"_

"_What has been done is done," Lovino said with a note of finality in his voice. "We can't turn back time and bring back what we've lost."_

_Aloysius tucked the loose end of the roller bandage under one of the folds and secured it with a pin. "Okay…" He looked defeated. He forced a smile and patted Lovino's shoulder. "There. Look after yourself, okay?"_

_Lovino looked at the finished bandage and managed a slight grin. He thanked Aloysius and left the place, closing the door behind him. Aloysius then gave up all pretence of being assured. A hesitant frown crossed his face._

"_Even if it's from your brother."_

* * *

**Bonus:**

**At the moment, if you are Arthur, who are you the most suspicious of?**


	7. Eidetic Memory

Old clockwork ballerinas and dolls.

Arthur had his hands pressed against the dusty display window of an antique shop probably as old as the things it had in there. A doll lay limp and unwanted, its uncombed locks of hair in tangled knots, while a musical box lay next to it, its shining foil paper covered in dust and it's key rusting away in the lock.

Arthur stood straight and sighed. He was sure Syndevale used to be a lively place. He could almost hear the giggles and laughter of children again.

He turned back to the old school. A slight breeze blew and a bell shook. The school had been empty. The bell tower looked lonely amongst the red-brick school building and classroom blocks. Within a few years the school had aged considerably. Catching Arthur's wistful green gaze, Johan smiled a little.

"Hopefully when it's all over, everything can return back to normal."

"Hopefully," Arthur repeated quietly to himself. He turned and followed Johan. The other walked on, leading the way. Seeing Arthur trying to catch up, Johan slowed down.

"Sorry my house is a little far from here," He said with a sheepish grin.

"No worries," Arthur replied.

Johan sighed. "It used to be a joy to walk to and fro from the school and back home. It was nice to see the place so lively. Aloysius came to the school to help out to. He was the nurse's assistant. The students liked him a lot." Johan laughed at the memory.

Johan had invited Arthur to his place for lunch. Arthur took this opportunity to find out a little more about Syndevale. As they walked Arthur tried hard to picture what Syndevale used to be like—and who had caused the dispersion of peace and comfort in the quiet little town. He tried to think what the murderer would gain from killing others, for vacating the town and giving it the reputation of a haunted place. But the most unsettling and mysterious facts hung in the air: no foreign trace of blood was found, no matching weapon was found and all the residents had alibis. If it wasn't the people Arthur knew now, then who was it?

After about 10 minutes of awkward silence, Arthur noticed that they were approaching a white house. Well, it wasn't really white. The paint was peeling but aside from that it looked quite presentable. There were a couple of yellow tulips placed in the mailbox and cheerful wildflowers wound around the gate. Johan went up to unlock the gate and beckoned to Arthur.

"Come on in."

Arthur nodded and followed Johan. As the other opened the door, the aroma of something fried and savoury invaded Arthur's nostrils.

"Oh hi!" Arthur heard Aloysius call from the kitchen.

Johan smiled. "What are you making?"

"Secret!" Aloysius replied.

"Have a seat," Johan offered as he gestured to the couch and the dining table. "What would you like to drink? We have water, juice and some tea."

"Do you have Earl Grey?" Arthur asked.

Johan gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry…"

"Then water will be fine," Arthur smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll go get it for you now." Johan turned around and headed to the kitchen.

Arthur began to look around. There was a TV and a radio perched on a table in front of a couch. A cup half-filled with what appeared to be lemon tea and an open magazine were on the table. Arthur spotted a stack of magazines and newspapers next to the couch. There was also a laptop placed on a table against another wall. Arthur wandered around and saw two photos on a wall. One of them showed Johan and Aloysius with other people. They were laughing at the camera and a strange statue of a creature was in the foreground. The other picture depicted Johan and Aloysius in front of the school in Syndevale, with a group of children.

"Leon."

Arthur turned around and saw Johan holding out a glass of water for him. Arthur smiled.

"Thanks."

Johan looked at the photos Arthur was looking at. He pointed to the first one. "That was us and our friends back in Singapore. We were at the city area for our farewell outing. We went to have dinner at the hawker centre that evening." Johan pointed to the second photo. "And that was us four years ago. Aloysius volunteered there to help the school nurse. You could say he was also the unofficial second counsellor." Johan chuckled. "The children really looked up to him as an older brother."

Arthur was about to open his mouth to ask a question when Aloysius called. "Food ready liao!"

"Coming!" Johan replied.

Arthur took one last glance at the picture before following Johan into the kitchen. There was a plate of an aromatic lump on the table. Arthur felt the corners of his mouth moisten and he knew he was salivating. He tried not to make his watering mouth too obvious as he sat down. Johan handed him a fork and spoon and a plate.

"Help yourself," Johan said warmly.

"Thank you." Arthur said. He noticed Aloysius had already piled up his plate and Johan was already helping himself. Arthur dug his cutlery into the strange lump and he realised it was _soft _and breaking apart; it was noodles!

"What's this?" Arthur asked, confident that this was no British cuisine.

Aloysius swallowed. "_Char kway teow_," he said. "Fried noodles. There's cockles and prawn in there. If you want take the lime."

Arthur decided to just try a mouthful. He scooped up a spoonful and put in his mouth.

"Mmm! This is delicious!" He exclaimed. It was fantastic: the savoury flavour of the seafood and the noodles blended in an overpowering mix of strong taste and a pleasant fried smell.

"Glad you like it," Johan smiled. "We eat our local food all the time. Maybe you should stop by more often." He quipped.

"Shiok right?!" Aloysius gave a self-satisfied grin. "I know lah, my cooking is very nice one. Last time I used to make for…" Aloysius broke off. Arthur looked up.

The other had abruptly stopped mid-sentence and the unfinished words were left hanging in the air. Arthur looked at him, prompting him with his eyes, but Johan's cough broke the silence.

"Hey, there's some cockles left. Do you want it, Aloysius?" Johan asked. Aloysius quietly shook his head as his actions resumed and he toyed with his food.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, hoping he sounded concerned. But in actual fact Aloysius' reaction had sparked his interest and he was keen to find out more. He tried his best to maintain a natural worried expression as Johan glanced at Aloysius. Aloysius finally let out a soft sigh and his black eyes met Arthur's emerald ones.

"Four years ago, when I was still volunteering at the school, I made friends with this boy called Ruben…"

Aloysius bit his lip and a dreary silence hung as seconds crawled past.

"And…?" Arthur prompted.

Aloysius sucked in a deep breath, and Arthur could have sworn his voice was shaking like an earthquake as he whispered the rest of his sentence.

"He was taken away by the social workers after his father was murdered here."

* * *

"_Can I come visit you tomorrow?" The boy asked excitedly as he bounced next to Aloysius._

"_Why not?" Aloysius replied good-naturedly. "Come back tomorrow, confirm got some sweets for you, okay?"_

"_Yay!" The boy cheered. "Thanks Big Brother!" His wide smile got bigger when he spotted his parents by the gate. _

"_There's my parents!" He said. He tapped Aloysius' wrist. "Bye Big Brother! See you tomorrow!"_

"_Bye! And be careful on your way home!" Aloysius called after the running boy. He smiled when Ruben flew into the open arms of his mother. His father smiled as he patted Ruben's shoulder. Aloysius thought he felt his eyes sting. He quickly blinked them. Oh, come on, he can't be jealous of a kid, right? Sure he had been about Ruben's age when the incident happened but now…_

_Aloysius shook his head and his vision cleared. By then Ruben and his family had already left the gate. Aloysius hung around, watching as some children waved goodbye to him as he joined his parents. _

"_Bye Big Brother!" A girl called out to him as she dashed to the school gates to where her parents were. _

_Where Aloysius saw a familiar face._

_His eyes widened. "G-Gilbert…?"_


	8. Anthropophagy

Arthur opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was the sunlight that streamed through the windows of his room. He sat up and yawned as he rubbed his eyes. What time was it now?

The wall clock said that it was a quarter to nine.

Arthur rarely overslept, even though his job as a detective stole away most of the time he would use for sleeping. Pushing aside the covers, Arthur got out of bed. He grabbed a clean set of clothes and a towel and he headed to the common bathroom, getting ready for another day of undercover work.

After he had taken a shower and changed, he headed down to the dining area. Victoria had already laid breakfast: a few scones and two jugs of coffee and orange juice. A jar of jam was also set on the table. Victoria smiled brightly when she saw Arthur coming.

"Good morning!" She called out cheerily. Arthur smiled and returned the greeting. He took a seat across from Victoria and helped himself to the coffee and a scone, which were much better than his own.

"Leon," Victoria said as she grabbed a scone. "Are you free today?"

Arthur shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well, because I used to have an itinerary I gave to my guests, mostly tourists," said Victoria. "I thought maybe you were busy since you got here but if you're free today, would you like to go the Worship House?"

"Worship House?" Arthur questioned as he took a sip of coffee.

Victoria nodded. "It used to be quite touristy," she said. "It's the birthplace of the beliefs the people of Syndevale used to have. It's really interesting. I can tell you all about it when we're there!"

Arthur's interest perked. Partly because of his personal belief in magic, and partly because he could possibly find a lead. He put on his best 'interested' look.

"I would like to come," he said, smiling. "When can we go?"

"Is after breakfast okay with you?" Victoria asked.

"Of course."

* * *

It was already 9.15am when they set off. Victoria locked up the B and B before they headed off. They walked through familiar streets and passed by the school. Arthur realised that the school was probably the landmark of this town.

They walked past a crumbling cottage before they came to a rather rundown house. It was made of wood, unlike the other cottages that were in the town which were made of stone, and there were no windows, only a door with a brass handle. There was an empty ticket stand in front of the house; Victoria just ignored it and went up to the door. She pushed it open and beckoned to Arthur.

Arthur followed Victoria into the house. The first thing that struck him was the darkness of the place. He could make out several irregular outlines, but no actual form. He felt something being shoved into his hand. A torchlight.

"This place is infamous for being dark and scary," He heard Victoria's voice. A beam of light pierced through the blackness as Victoria turned on her torchlight. Arthur did the same. Victoria's torchlight ran over a portion of the left wall. It was then Arthur could see that the house was a lot larger than it appeared to be. He could see a mural of a scene where a man was standing over another man, who was kneeling on a cushion and whose wrists and ankles were bound by chains. The man standing over him was lifting an axe over his head, prepared to bring it down on the other.

"This depicts a sacrificial ceremony," Victoria explained. "Long time ago, the people believed in a god called Iralestine. He was the Syndevale equivalent to Satan, who is the demon for the sin of Wrath. Legend says the Iralestine was once alive in Syndevale, born as a handsome young man by the name of Cade. Back then, the people of Syndevale were in the state of chaos: they were constantly fighting with each other over marriage, business and life. Even the people who eventually settled into Syndevale would take sides whever a fight broke out. Cade swore he would one day make peace in Syndevale.

"However, one day, a brutal fight broke out between two sides of the villages. Cade begged the people to stop, but the fight continued, resulting in many casualties. He placed himself in the middle of the violence, and shouted that if he died he would make sure the people would pay for the years of suffering and disorder they caused for themselves. He was killed in the fight. It took a few days for the fight to end somewhat in a tie due to the deaths and casualties, but then Cade's father died. It was then people started dying mysteriously periodically, and the people believed that Cade had come to haunt them, and they had to pay by sacrificing the people every year to make up for the deaths of the innocent they had caused. So the Ceremony of Iralestine came about, where every full moon they would sacrifice one person, chosen by a priest, to Iralestine to keep the other people safe. You could say it was a lesson of self-sacrifice.

"Years after that when Syndevale became modernized no one believed in Iralestine anymore, but they celebrate the Ira Festival to remind others of the importance of peace. Instead of sacrificial ceremonies, a performance depicting the legend of Iralestine would be put up to appease both the audience and Iralestine himself." Victoria finished.

"When does the festival start?" Arthur asked.

"Always on the first blue moon of summer," Victoria replied. She turned around and walked to the other wall and shone her torchlight over it, revealing a rack of weapons.

"These used to be the torture weapons. Nobody uses them anymore, of course," she laughed. "There's a chest with more weapons, but it's locked so no one can open it."

She turned around. "Now look at this."

Arthur turned a full turn around, and that was when, even without the light, he could clearly make out a life-sized statue of Iralestine.

The stone statue towered over them, its harsh eyes fixated on Arthur and Victoria. It appeared as if Iralestine was living in it. Victoria walked up to the statue and shone her torchlight over the statue's feet, where Arthur noticed there was a stone plaque. He walked up and read the words engraved on it.

"_Sentire iram meam_," Arthur read.

"'Feel my wrath'," Victoria translated. "It's Latin. There's some more." She shone her torchlight down the plaque. "'A hundred years will never pay back the unnecessary loss of lives, so the future generations will pay with their own flesh and blood and feed my soul. The warriors of sacrifice serve me loyally, taking the lives of others and their own.'"

"The last line," Arthur intervened. "What does it mean?"

"The warriors of sacrifice refer to the men who carry out the sacrifice," Victoria explained. "They killed others for Iralestine, but they had to face killing one of their kind and being saddened by it, in a way mentally losing themselves."

Arthur stared at the plaque. His eyes ran up the words, and to Iralestine's feet, then to his torso, and finally his eyes.

_Is it you whom I am facing now, Iralestine?_

* * *

Later, Arthur and Victoria left the Worship House. Arthur had to be admit that he was intrigued; he had no idea a small town like Syndevale had held so much history. Victoria smiled when Arthur told her that the legend was really interesting.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, grinning. "Are you coming back to the B and B?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. "I'd like to look around a little more."

"Would you be coming back for lunch?"

Arthur thought for a while before he nodded. "I'll come back at around 12.30."

Victoria nodded. "Okay, see you then!" And with that, she turned and walked off.

Arthur turned around and walked for a few metres before he was entirely sure she was gone. He turned back to the original direction he was approaching towards and continued walking. He made a few turns before he ended up at the school. Without hesitation, he entered the school grounds. Somehow, he was convinced that there was a lead in the school.

He walked down the corridor. Some of the classrooms were locked. The doors were decorated with colourful motivational posters and some with the class names. He entered a few classrooms and checked them, but his thorough searches were proved passed by a noticeboard, which he noticed the latest notice was posted four years ago, announcing the Year 5 inter-class basketball competition results. He turned and went upstairs, where he decided to check the hall.

The hall was huge and empty. The curtains were drawn and the stage lonely. The podium stood, gathering dust. Arthur went up and checked backstage. He checked the mezzanine floor and the technical room. Nothing.

He sighed. He got out from backstage. His back was slightly damp with perspiration and turned cold when a slight breeze blew on it. He checked his watch. He couldn't believe it. He spent almost two hours just searching for clues.

Feeling frustrated, he decided to call it day and head back to the Bed and Breakfast. He exited the hall and took the staircase down.

When he reached the ground floor, he realised that his surroundings looked different than before. He looked around and realised the noticeboard he saw earlier looked different too. Then he spotted a sign on the wall.

_Year 5-9 classrooms._

This was the classroom block for the older students.

Finding a new sense of hope, Arthur decided to venture down. But hardly moving a metre he heard a clatter.

It was familiar.

Nostalgia hit Arthur as the sound of after-school rang in his head.

That was the sound of a desk clattering.

It then struck Arthur that someone else was in the school.

He broke into a run. Who was it? What was the person doing here? Could it be that it was the culprit, the murderer?

But what greeted Arthur at classroom 11 was the sight of a twisted heap of a chair and desk.

And Lovino.

"Lovino!" Arthur exclaimed. The other shot up and quickly neatened himself.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked.

"I…" Lovino quickly stuffed something he had in his hand into his pocket. "Left something here when I placed flowers here last week."

True enough, there was a bouquet of flowers on the neighbouring desk.

"What is it?" Arthur pressed on, his suspicion arising.

"Something important," Lovino sputtered as Arthur began advancing towards him.

"Can I see it?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice dangerously calm.

Lovino slowly retreated back a few steps as the distance between them grew shorter. Arthur kept his eyes drilled on Lovino, and he could see the other was close to panic.

"I-I'd better go," Lovino mumbled as he barged past Arthur and ran off.

Leaving behind a sense that Lovino had something to do with the murders.

* * *

"_I know you killed him."_

_Lovino looked at the other with pleading eyes of shock. "I-I would never…"_

"_My fratello will never do such thing!" Feliciano exclaimed, jumping to his brother's defence._

_Lukas turned away, and Lovino saw a tear flowing down his cheek and he hugged Emil's head to him, white blood-stained hair brushing against his sleeve. He clenched his teeth. Lovino felt tears well up in his eyes as Emil's face nearly came into view._

"_I know everything," Lukas muttered bitterly. He turned to Lovino, his blazing dark eyes glowing with pain and spite drilled on the latter._

"_I know… The last thing I remembered was you and Emil outside school… And he was leaning on you, bleeding with a blade protruding from the other side of his head."_

* * *

**Bonus****: **

**What do you think was the object Lovino picked up?**


	9. Sedatephobia

"_Pack your bag, Rufus!"_

"_Mum? What's wrong?"_

"_Don't ask so many questions; take your things, we're leaving first thing in the morning!"_

"_But why?!"_

"_Because your father was killed. They may be after me, or even you!"_

"_Who did it?"_

"_I don't know. It could be anybody."_

"_Even the big brothers?"_

"_Even the big brothers."_

* * *

_A…1…a…1…_

Arthur awoke with a start.

A nightmare?

The word and number rang in his head like a resounding bell and his head hurt as if it was a hangover. Instantly he remembered the photo of the last crime scene, and he leapt from his bed and he turned on his laptop. While waiting for the laptop to boot up, he heard his handphone ring. He answered it.

"Speaking."

"Mr Kirkland."

"Toris," Arthur murmured. He had not heard much from his partner.

"Mr Kirkland, we already put together the torn pieces of the letter Kent White left in the house," Toris said, mentioning the alias of the detective that was stationed here before Arthur.

"What are the results?" Arthur asked as he glided his finger across the finger pad on his laptop and opened the photograph that Kent White had scratched on the soil.

A.

Above it was '1'.

"Well, Mr Kirkland, it seems that the letter was purposefully torn—or rather, cut—as it was a message for us. It's a series of numbers, apparently."

"Numbers?" Arthur questioned. Leaning his phone against his shoulder, he grabbed a post-it pad and a pen.

"Yes. It says 112152519919…"

Arthur hastily scribbled down the code. The figures came out distorted and scratchy—very unlike his usual handwriting, but he couldn't care about that now. When he was finished, he torn off the post-it and pasted it against the window next to other post-its with vibrant colours.

The details of the victims' deaths were in yellow, including the victim's name, age and approximate date and time of death were coded in green.

The suspects' details were in pink.

And questions in orange.

The newest piece of information was in yellow. Arthur stepped back and examined the post-its.

No matter how much he looked at it, it still looked like a messed-up puzzle that was torn, ripped and disassembled in unrecognizable pieces.

Arthur groaned in frustration.

Just how long can he last?

* * *

"_Wait! I-I didn't mean it!"_

"_Hey! Give me back my fratello!"_

"_Lovino! He actually _hurt _you. You're just going to let it go like that?! What if…?"_

"_Let go of me!"_

"_Lovi!"_

"_LOVINO!"_

"_I promise… I promise I won't do it again!"_

* * *

Arthur went out to find Gilbert.

Somehow, just somehow, Gilbert seemed to know a lot about Syndevale and the murders.

Arthur found the beat-up bar. Despite being broad daylight, the bar seemed dreary as ever. Arthur peered into the bar and he saw Gilbert nursing a bottle of beer.

"Hey."

Gilbert looked up.

"'sup."

Arthur placed a couple of notes on the counter. Gilbert cocked an eyebrow.

"What can I get you?"

"Brandy."

Gilbert turned around to get the drink when he heard Arthur speak to him again.

"And what you know about Syndevale and its residents."

Gilbert's crimson eyes widened, but he put on a neutral expression when he turned back to Arthur.

"What is there to know?" Gilbert asked, popping open the cap. The cap came clean off, dropping to the wooden floor with a few metallic clicks. Arthur grabbed the bottle and took a gulp.

"Who else was here?"

"The bar?"

"No, Syndevale."

Gilbert swallowed.

"Hercules, Roderich, Rufus, Matthias… I can go on. They came and went in this very town."

"What do you know about them?"

Gilbert looked nonchalant. "Not much. They're not regulars for one, except for Matthias. He came with four other guys. Emil was also murdered here."

"What's their relationship with the current residents?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Not much, but Emil attended school here."

"Oh?"

"He seemed to be close to Lovino."

Arthur perked up.

"How so?"

"They're the same age, share the same interests, complain about the same things yada yada yada. You get the gist."

"Had any arguments?"

"Can't say. They were underage when Emil was killed."

"Just when was Emil killed?"

"About a couple of years back I guess? It was winter. Weather forecast said it was crap outside. They found Emil's body outside the school. Don't know why but Lovino was there too."

"How was Emil killed? You know?"

Gilbert shrugged again. "They said that a pole was forced through his head and his eyeballs were ripped out, or something. I wasn't there, but I heard from Johan that you could see his brain bleeding and all the shit coming out from his eye holes. Sounded pretty gross."

Arthur felt a chill go down his spine. He had known about the how Emil had died, but the gruesome, grotesque way each body was broken never failed to scare him.

"How about the others?"

"Well, Hercules was 'hacked to death' according to Aloysius, Roderich's limbs were detached, Rufus had his throat ripped open and his lungs stolen. Poor boy. Yes, it was a boy. He was… 10, maybe? I don't know."

Those things Arthur already knew. The images of the bodies flashed through his mind. The dark blood, the missing body parts, the expressions of the corpses…

"Anything else?"

Gilbert shrugged as he amused himself with wiping the counter. "Well, the rest seems fuzzy, but there was a guy with his fingernails and fingers cut off, I heard."

Arthur suppressed a sigh.

"Do you know much about the residents?"

Gilbert groaned. "Nah, they don't frequent unless there's news to tell."

Arthur thought about the victims, and the suspects. Everybody seemed to be fine with each other. There was no obvious reason for murder. In fact, it was not very likely that anybody to gain anything from this. Anything good, that is. This had already become infamous with the police and attracting attention from some sneaky journalists.

Wait.

Attention.

Arthur looked at Gilbert.

"Do you have any friends?"

Gilbert stopped.

"Friends?"

Arthur looked at him. "Be it dead or alive."

Gilbert stoned for a few minutes, before he straightened himself.

"No one wants me. I've been like this since coming here."

Arthur gripped the neck of the brandy bottle.

"Not even Elizaveta, huh?"

Arthur saw Gilbert flinch.

Gilbert starred at the counter, as if there was a lifetime's worth of cash piled on it. His eyes were widened as if disbelief and shock, but he tried not to show it.

Silence.

"Heh."

Gilbert looked up. His usual smirk seemed to be dampened by slight longing and distaste.

"Maybe."

_No._

_It was never._

* * *

"_You know, they say you shouldn't walk down that place at night. It's Iralestine's grave."_

"_Bullshit."_

11pm.

Gilbert groaned as he dragged himself out from the bar, the reek of alcohol leaving his lips as he breathed. It seemed that he had too much again.

He pulled down the metal screen in fluid motions. It hit the ground with a bang. He grabbed his keys, locked it, and made his way back home.

If you could call that hole a home.

Gilbert never bothered cleaning his house. After having some stale stuff for breakfast and washing up, he just made his way to the bar and stayed there until late at night, and really early in the morning.

The thought of strewn laundry, discarded wrappers and a pile of magazines on his bed didn't seem appealing, but he was tired. Either way, his bed was a lot more pleasant than the counter.

Gilbert turned and took the usual shortcut to his home, humming some forgotten tune he must have learned when he was a child. He swung his keys to the slow beat, letting them jingle and fill the silence.

"_Don't walk like that?"_

"_And why the fuck not?"_

"_It's the… grave."_

"_They're all dead. Who cares?"_

Pfft. Grave? Grave or not, it was still walking ground. Gilbert couldn't help but smirk at that rumor. Huh, if this path to his home was a grave, then underneath his floor at home housed zombies. Geez, that guy was good at making up scary stuff for Halloween.

Gilbert continued walking, humming.

Shoes scraped against the dirt.

He stopped.

Silence.

Gilbert turned around.

Emptiness.

"Hmph, must be my imagination," Gilbert muttered, running his fingers through his glowing white hair. He turned and continued walking.

Silence.

Silence.

"_Hey, Gilbert."_

"_Hm?"_

"_I heard if you walk along here, you'll get cursed! Or killed! Or both!"_

"_Yeah, sure. And walking to the church will grant me a whole year's worth of beer."_

Silence.

Gilbert realized it.

He turned around.

But he didn't manage to complete his action.

"What the-?!"

He felt intense pain searing through his abdomen. He let out a sound that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a choke. He saw drops of his own blood splattering on the ground like paint. He looked down.

A blade.

He gritted his teeth and turned his eyes to the attacker.

"Y-You…"

"I told you not to walk here, didn't I?"

"W-Why me and why… now?"

The attacker smirked. He leaned forward. Gilbert could feel cold air climbing up his neck.

"You told Arthur Kirkland, didn't you?"

"A-about what?" Gilbert challenged.

"It won't be fun if I told you, right?"

Gilbert gasped in pain as the attacker drew back the knife. More blood spilled, staining the dirt red.

Gilbert had no time to scream. The attacker grabbed his throat from the back and flipped him over. Without hesitation, the attacker stabbed Gilbert in the neck.

More blood spilled.

They were on Gilbert's clothes, on the attacker's attire.

The attacker—no, _murderer—_drew out the weapon. The blade came down again, this time on Gilbert's shoulders. The blade drove in deep, and was dragged down in the skin all the way until the wrists. The action was repeated on Gilbert's other limbs, and was finished with the skin being opened up.

Blood.

A river of red.

Silence.


	10. Thanatophobia

It was raining.

Arthur stood with his hands in his coat pockets, without an umbrella, and fixed his steady gaze on the tombstone in front of him.

Victoria and Feliciano were crying.

The others just watched in respected, solemn silence.

_Gilbert Beilschimdt_

_können Sie in Frieden ruhen_

_May you rest in peace._

It seemed so… cliché; the inscription, the setting, the atmosphere. It seemed like an exact reprint of a scene from a tragedy with gloomy weather and a shared feeling of loss and being grim about the matter. Gilbert's body wasn't there though—it was taken by the forensics for autopsy.

"We'd better go," Johan whispered as he placed a hand on Victoria's shoulder.

Dabbing her eyes, Victoria nodded.

Arthur waited for everyone to leave.

_So it wasn't Gilbert._

Arthur hadn't got back the autopsy results, but he had already been at the crime scene. Gilbert's skin had been sliced open, revealing his bloody insides. Toris had been there too.

"Just like the other victims, Gilbert Beilschimdt had an organ stolen from him," Toris had reported. "It's a kidney. There's no particular pattern though. Beginning with Roderich Edelstein, it was the brain and left eyeball. His son Rufus Edelstein's lungs were taken. Hercules Karpusi had his liver taken. Matthias Densen had his entire right arm taken. Some policemen are going to search Gilbert's house, but there's no news so far."

_Disgusting. _Arthur grimaced. Each method of killing was getting more grotesque. More blood was spilling. It wouldn't be long before it was Arthur.

He sighed.

The rain kept falling, showing no intention of stopping. The puddles that formed at his feet were spreading out, stretching out a few lengths, reflecting the dull grey clouds that saw each bloodspill.

"Aren't you going back?"

Arthur turned around.

Johan's eyes seemed darker and more shaded than usual. He stepped forward, and offered half of his umbrella to Arthur, who was half-drenched. With rain coming down in the background, Arthur's green eyes met Johan's empty, black ones.

"Thanks."

"I'll see you back."

The walk back had never been this quiet, this awkward.

This disapproving.

* * *

When Arthur got back, Victoria was cooking.

"Leon!" Victoria exclaimed, popping out from the kitchen. She was holding on to a ladle and wearing an apron over her clothes. She had changed out from the black dress she wore earlier and was wearing a sundress. Arthur gave her a weak smile and hung his wet coat on the coat hanger.

"Since it's cold, I'm making beef stew," Victoria said. "I hope you won't mind."

"No, not at all," Arthur replied. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh, thanks!" Victoria beamed. "Come in!"

Arthur followed her back into the kitchen, pleasantly greeted by the aroma of homemade cooking. There was a pot on the stove and a few jars and sliced vegetables on the counter. Victoria went to check on the stew. She gestured to the vegetables.

"Help me cut those, will you?" she said.

Arthur nodded.

He picked up the knife and began slowly cutting the potatoes and carrots. It seemed to help him take his mind off things for a while. He tried to relax with every little motion. He didn't always cook at home. He was terrible at it. Each one of his dishes ended up as an unrecognizable burnt lump and because of that he often ate out. It wasn't all the time he got to eat home-cooked food.

Victoria was humming a cheerful tune as she stirred the stew. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw her pouring in some ingredients into the pot from different jars. She grabbed a jar and upturned it. She suddenly paused.

"I'm out of spices," she murmured.

"Do you need to buy some?" Arthur asked.

"I have some at the back," Victoria replied. "Can you watch over the stew while I go and check?"

"Sure."

Victoria smiled gratefully at him and left. Arthur took her place in front of the stove and stirred the stew. It smelled _good_. He satisfied himself with stirring, watching the meat and sauce mix together. He wondered how it tasted like. Deciding to cheat a little, he grabbed a spoon and scooped a little stew out, and tasted it. It was as delicious as it smelled, but it seemed to be lacking something.

_I wonder… _Arthur opened the cupboard just in front of him and checked the contents. _Mayonnaise, butter, mustard, jam, biscuits, canned sardines…_

Arthur smiled when he found what he was looking for.

_Canned tomatoes._

He grabbed the can. And set it on the counter. He found a can opener in a drawer and took it out. Although he wasn't a master chef, he knew how to use a can opener. He dug the can opener into the lid of the can and tried to cut through it.

_Hm? _To his surprise, the can was already open.

_Did she use it before? _Arthur peered under the can. There were still a couple of months until the expiry date. He sniffed the contents. It still smelled fresh. He looked into the can. Other than the tomatoes looking a little more watery than they should be, they looked safe.

Arthur upturned the can and used a spoon to scoop out the contents. Slowly, lumps of the red slices of tomato dropped and descended into the stew, mixing with the stew. One by one, one after another.

Then something dropped into the stew.

Arthur blinked. Was he seeing things? He must be. He emptied all the remaining tomatoes into the stew and used the ladle to stir the stew. He grinned with satisfaction as the tomatoes slowly surfaced and the stew turned a reddish hue. He kept on stirring.

Until an eyeball surfaced.

Arthur let out a gasp and he dropped the ladle.

A deafening clatter resounded through the whole kitchen.

He froze and his mind stopped completely.

W-was that…? Could… it…? No… but… This…

He was shaking. His body was quivering. He took a step back.

He saw it with his own eyes.

_A human eyeball_.

_It…! _Arthur's thoughts were interrupted as a horrid smell struck him. He began coughing and hacking. The smell wasn't really pungent or rancid, but plain… overpowering and fatal. And yet, it smelled so familiar.

It was the scent of blood.

_An eyeball and blood…? _Arthur's eyes widened as he realised it.

It was always right in front of him.

It was Victoria.

She had been behind all the murders.

She had been hiding the bodies.

She had been playing with him.

She had always been laughing behind the scenes.

"THIS BULLCRAP CAN'T BE EATEN!" Arthur yelled in raw anger as his arm struck out and he flipped the pot. The pot clattered to the floor and the reddish stew spilled and splattered across the white floor, beef, blood, eyeball and all.

The eyeball stood out and rolled across the spilt stew.

And bumped into Victoria's shoes.

"Leon…" Victoria murmured, staring at the eyeball at her feet with her head bowed.

Arthur stumbled backwards and felt his hands shaking in fear. Cold sweat gathered at his forehead as Victoria looked up, with wide eyes and a distraught expression.

"Why… did you have to help?"


	11. Panic Disorder

He didn't know.

He didn't care.

Arthur's legs felt like lead and his chest tightened with every step he took. He was breathing heavily, his heads was spinning, his vision blurring, but he continued running, letting his fatigued legs carry him wherever.

He didn't know at that moment what to do. Victoria had seemingly confronted him, and he just took off. He had sensed a murderous intent about her, and between 'fight-or-flight', he chose the former.

He knew he had to get out of Syndevale. He had to get back and tell the higher-ups that it was Victoria Louis was the sadistic, heartless, scheming rumoured murderer of Syndevale.

Arthur dared himself to look over his shoulder. Turning his head in the smallest angle he could, he made sure he wasn't being tailed. Seeing nothing but darkness, his legs slowed down in relief and gave way. He collapsed onto the dirt, out of breath and panting madly like a dog. He felt his shirt sticking onto his sweat-covered back and his legs going numb. Arthur painfully straightened himself, sitting up in the most comfortable position. He fished out his cellphone and dialled Toris's number. To his relief, his partner picked up after a few rings.

"Hello?"

"Tell the boss the murderer is Victoria!"

"Mr Kirkland? What—…?"

"There isn't time. I have to leave this place ASAP before I get killed!" Arthur practically screamed into the phone.

"O-oh, understood! I'll inform the seniors!"

The line was cut.

Feeling a small weight being lifted off his shoulders, Arthur closed his eyes and let his vision fade to nothing but pitch black.

* * *

Light.

Feeling a slight pain in his stomach, along with seeing blurred colours, Arthur groaned.

"W-where…"

"Ah, so I see you've come to."

Arthur let out another groaned and mustered all the strength he could to push himself upright. He felt extremely weak and famished. He blinked a few times, and made out the figure in front of him as Johan.

"Here, have this," Johan handed him a mug. Arthur took it gratefully, and sipped its contents. It was chamomile tea.

"You hungry?" Aloysius came into sight, and offered a tin of biscuits. Arthur thanked him and took out a cracker.

"I hope you don't mind eating last night's leftover dessert," Johan gave an apologetic smile.

"Dessert?" Arthur questioned.

Aloysius placed the tin on the coffee table in front of Arthur. "Sorry, early morning we don't make fresh food."

"What time is it now?" Arthur asked as Aloysius turned around and headed back to the kitchen.

"It's 3.10am," Johan replied.

"I've been out for that long?" Arthur exclaimed.

"I don't know, I just saw you outside when I woke up to get a drink," Johan said. "Why not you go take a shower first? The bathroom's just over there, to your right. There's a clean set of clothes and a towel you can use."

"Thanks. Sorry for the trouble," Arthur gave a weak grin as he slowly stood up, surprised at how unfamiliar the floor felt.

"Don't mention it," Johan said.

Arthur slowly walked to the bathroom and went inside, making sure to lock the door behind him. He saw a towel, a T-shirt and jeans stacked neatly next to the sink. Leaning against the wall, Arthur took out his cellphone to check if he had any updates from Toris. He found two missed calls and an unread text message, all from Toris. He opened the text message.

_Sorry, we couldn't arrange any transport for you to get back. Taxi services that go through your route close on Sundays._

Arthur groaned. To hell with the bloody taxi services. Frustrated, Arthur whipped off his clothes and stepped into the bathtub, hoping a shower could wash away his negative emotions and thoughts.

The cool water felt pleasing and welcoming to Arthur. He helped himself to the soap and the shampoo, making sure he used only as much as he needed. As he washed off the white foam on his body, he thought about Victoria. It had been news to him that she was the one that was behind all the murders. Did that mean that those tears she shed at yesterday's funeral were just crocodile tears?

When Arthur was done, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself. He changed into the clothes provided. The T-shirt was definitely not his style; it was a faded grey with a strange smiley face which had 'X's for eyes and was grinning. But no matter, it was better than wearing that sweat-drenched shirt and slacks.

Arthur picked up his soiled clothes and stuffed them in a plastic bag he found. When he came out of the bathroom, he placed it by the doorway, reminding himself to get it later. He went to the living room and saw that there were three bowls placed on the table.

"Come on, let's eat," Aloysius called, gesturing. Arthur went up and sat down on the couch. He picked up one bowl, as did Aloysius and Johan. They began eating; Aloysius rather hungrily as he practically wolfed down the whole thing, Johan more delicately by scooping spoonful by spoonful.

Arthur looked at the dessert. It was a few round white balls, each about the size of his thumbnail, floating in a sweet-smelling soup.

Catching his expression, Aloysius explained. "It's _tangyuan_. It's nice. You're not allergic to peanuts, right?"

Arthur shook his head. He scooped up one of the white balls. He sipped the soup before eating the ball. Once he chewed on it, the tasted the sweetness of the peanut paste.

"It's good," he smiled when he swallowed.

"You see. Nice right?" Aloysius grinned.

It was definitely more delicious than what Arthur normally cooked.

Or that bloody stew.

Arthur tried to conceal his disgust at the thought of the stew, then he suddenly remembered. Should he tell Aloysius and Johan about Victoria? After all, if Victoria was the murderer, everyone in Syndevale was in danger. But it was only an 'if'. Arthur had no proof that Victoria was the murderer, but…

No. He shouldn't be pointing fingers. At least not now.

"You should get some rest once you're done," Johan said as he put down his spoon. "You seem quite tired."

"I'm fine, actually," Arthur said.

"If you want to there's a spare room where you can sleep in," Johan said as he stood up, pointing.

"Thanks."

"I go wash," Aloysius murmured as he stood up. Johan passed him his bowl and Aloysius went to the kitchen to clean them. Arthur continued eating, a bit embarrassed that he was the slowest.

"If you need me I'll be in my room," Johan said simply. As he turned to leave, Arthur caught him by the arm.

In the softest voice he could conjure, Arthur asked. "What do you think of Victoria?"

Johan blinked. "Why?"

"I mean… You two should be quite familiar with each other by now, right?" Arthur said, trying to sound natural.

"Of course. She's quite kind and caring. She's really optimistic and bubbly," Johan said.

So it seemed Johan had been unaware about Victoria. Arthur let go of Johan's hand, throwing an apology. Watching Johan go back to his own bedroom, Arthur knew he should go and get a little rest too.

Everything he had been going through was just a nightmare. Clinging onto false hopes, Arthur silently prayed he would wake up.

* * *

**A/N: I apologise for the extremely long break. I had slight writer's block and I wasn't really motivated to write during the holiday season. I thank my reviewers for leaving reviews, which are my source of motivation and help me improve. :D **

**On a side note, I'll probably be on a long hiatus for the first half of next year, being busy and all, and Syndrome will probably be my last project in a long time. However, I'm planning my first multi-chapter original fiction which will be posted on FictionPress. It'll most likely to be my next story. In the meantime, happy new year! **


	12. Adverse Drug Reaction

"Open the door! Open the door!"

The screaming was deafening, pleading, too soul-haunting to ignore. Fumbling to his feet, Johan ran down the stairs and answered the door, instantly recognising the voice. He knew only one person would come knocking on his door at this unearthly hour. The moment the door flew open, Lovino ran inside in the house, eyes wide and body trembling furiously.

"Close the door!" he screamed in panic. Johan, obviously affected by the sudden change in night atmosphere, hurriedly shut the door and locked it.

"Lovino, what's wrong?" he questioned as Lovino stumbled forward, steadying himself by grabbing the armrest of a chair.

"I… I heard… Emil's voice," Lovino stuttered. His pale hand went to his forehead. "I… wanted to go back… to the school… I…"

"Look," Johan interrupted. "Why not you sit down while I go boil some water?"

"O-Okay…" Lovino nodded numbly, and hesitantly sat down on the couch as Johan went to the kitchen. Lovino was still shaking when Johan returned, clasped hands steadied between his knees. Johan offered a mug of water, which Lovino accepted. As he sipped slowly, Johan sat down on the armchair next to the couch.

"As you were saying about the school…?"

"T-The school…!" Lovino snapped back from his brief daze, almost dropping the mug. "M-my… fratello… was in the classroom… H-he… was burning the flowers… I put on the desk…"

"Feliciano?" Johan said questioningly, remembering the yellow carnations that Lovino regularly left at the desk where Emil once sat. Lovino nodded.

"H-he was burning them… I told him to stop… and…" Lovino began to shake wilder with every word, cold sweat breaking out. Johan saw the signs and set his mug on the table.

"I'll get Aloysius."

Johan quietly went up to his brother's bedroom and woke him up; promptly shushing him just as Aloysius was about to groan loudly. Upon hearing Lovino's arrival and current state, Aloysius jumped upright and went to get his first aid kit. He entered the living room and placed the first aid kit on the table.

"Which part?" Aloysius asked, staring at Lovino.

"N-none, bastard!" Lovino protested, looking away. Aloysius grabbed Lovino's arm, where the sleeve had clearly came off. It was definitely a burn from the way the material ended in tufts, and Lovino's exposed skin was black, charred badly.

Aloysius went on to treat Lovino's burn, rolling up his sleeve and bringing him to the kitchen to wash the burn. Lovino had of course denied being hurt, but eventually relented when Johan grabbed his wrists and forcefully dragged him to the sink.

Once Lovino's arm was bandaged properly, Johan let Lovino sleep over, seeing the current state he was in. Lovino denied, obviously too scared of his brother than returning.

"You sure?" Aloysius said harshly, gesticulating at Lovino's bandaged arm. "After what he's done to you?"

"It's not a big deal," Lovino shook his head. "It's my fault anyway. I couldn't afford the medicine…"

"But I thought you got those supplements I gave you?" Johan pointed out.

"It worked for a while," Lovino admitted. "But they didn't last. He began relapsing really badly, so I took him off the course."

"Relapsing?" Aloysius questioned. He took a step forward. "Define."

"I… He…" Lovino stuttered, almost at a loss of words. He shook his head madly and snapped. "None of your damn business!"

Lovino turned to leave, but Johan grabbed his shoulder. "Wait!"

"What do you want, dammit?" Lovino cursed as he fiercely threw off Johan's arm. As he did, something fell out of his pocket and crumpled to the floor. Aloysius bent down and picked it up. His eyes widened.

"L-Lovino… What is… the supplements doing in your pocket?" Aloysius questioned, not peeling his stunned gaze from the tiny Ziploc bag containing a few white pellets. Johan, wide-eyed and frozen, turned to look at Lovino.

"I…I…" Lovino stammered. He realised that he was cornered by concern and had no way out. Actually, he _did _have escape. However, he just couldn't bring himself to leave, not when there were people who obviously cared about him.

"I… was taking the supplements myself," he whispered. "Feliciano's my younger twin… If he's mad I could possibly be too. Since it didn't work on him, I wanted to see if…"

Lovino's voice trailed off as he faced the floor.

The room fell silent as the Lovino's words weighed in.

"Lovino…" Johan murmured. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

Lovino didn't dare to look up.

Johan and Aloysius exchanged looks.

"I think… you're just tired," Aloysius said, putting a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "I know… maybe Feliciano's at home, but I think you're just lacking sleep."

Lovino barely nodded.

"We'll escort you home," Johan said.

Lovino let himself be guided out of the door. The road home suddenly seemed so long and unfamiliar. He didn't recognise the street lamps or the deserted junctions. They passed by the bar; dead quiet just like the owner.

They finally arrived at the Vargas household. Lovino was about to look for his key, but Aloysius knocked the door. It wasn't long before Feliciano answered the door.

"Fratello!" Feliciano exclaimed as he hugged Lovino. "Where were you? I was worried! I thought you weren't coming home!"

Lovino blinked. "Y-yeah…"

"He's tired; he needs rest," Johan said.

"Ve~ Sure!" Feliciano grinned broadly. "Sorry for all the trouble!" Feliciano steadied Lovino so that both brothers were standing side by side. "We-…"

Silence.

Drip.

Drop.

Lovino stared in shock. "Frate-…!"

Again.

Once more.

Silence.

Thump.

Splat.

"Ah," Johan muttered nonchalantly as he stared his blood-stained shirt. "You've overdone it."

"Hmm?" Aloysius replied as he drove the blade down Lovino's throat. "You started it."

"I know, I know," Johan leaned forward and twirled the little bladed tool in his hand. He swiftly slit it on Feliciano's chest. Aloysius knelt down and dragged the small bag of supplements from Lovino's pocket.

"Well, what do we do with these?" he questioned as he dangled the bag.

"I don't know," Johan shrugged. He gave a small smile. "All I know is that those weren't meant for Lovino."

* * *

**A/N: Awkward ending? Apologies for the especially long hiatus. I actually forgot about Syndrome for a while, but upon rediscovering it, I decided to continue it and end it properly. :D I also gave the chapters new names in relevance to the title. They more or less still hold the same meaning as the original chapter titles, but if you're ever curious, there's always Google!**


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